V1 The Geneses of John
by Laatija
Summary: John wakes up in the hospital. Things have gone so horribly wrong... A spin-off from the episode Vegas. A little sappy but it's the beginning of my own little series based on the "Vegas 'Verse". R&R if you please.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis. Bah Humbug.

A/N: This is a story that spun off of the 19th episode of the fifth season, Vegas. It's set in that universe. It's the first of my Vegas series which features that particular universe. If you haven't seen that episode, look it up on YouTube and watch it right now (before reading this story).

Without further ado…

**The Geneses of John**

John shuddered. Shudder. Movement. Which meant that his body was still alive. _He _was still alive. Unless it was dying muscles twitching for the last time. But would he be cognizant for that? Really? Dying was not what he thought it would be. No flashing life, no bright lights…heck, he was even still conscious for the last twitches. Whoever arranged his death was cheap. Jerk. John wanted to call and demand a rebate. And yes, he realized the obscurity of his demand. But he felt justified in making it. He was dying. Dying men were entitled to a lot of things like demanding a rebate on his death.

John felt his chest twitch and pain shot into his shoulder, making him sick to his stomach. Being sick wasn't supposed to be a part of death either. What the crap?! John's eyelids fluttered as he tried to force them open. Something was not right here. Like the…the…voices? Someone was talking. A sweet female voice. Not an angry alien voice but a pretty feminine voice. What…

A weird garbled moaning noise buzzed past his lips. It wasn't exactly what he intended to come out of his mouth but it would do for the moment. He sensed an increase of movement around him. And…beeping? A steady rhythmic beeping that lulled in the background.

A hospital. What else could it be?

John finally forced his eyes open. His vision was blurry which added to the extreme sense of disorientation. Another strange garbling thing came out of his throat again as he attempted to sit up. Someone pushed him back down with a strong, almost gentle hand.

"Relax John, geeze," a voice ordered.

"…where 'm I," he slurred. His voice was soft and weak and cracked horribly. His vision was starting to clear, which was a plus.

"Spring Valley Hospital," the pleasant woman's voice offered.

"'m not…dead?" John blinked a few times and could _finally_ make out the ceiling tiles. A redheaded woman leaned into his line of sight, a concerned look on her not-so-pretty face.

"No, John, you're not dead." The voice wasn't the woman's; it belonged to a tall brooding figure next to him.

"Dave…what…what you…doing—"

"Shh," the woman cooed. "Don't try to talk. Just relax."

"What happened?" John demanded as loudly as he could manage. The woman, dressed like a doctor, wrinkled her nose at his blatant disregard of her order.

"You were shot," Dave said sharply. John winced at the word. He suddenly didn't need any more information. He was shot by an _alien_. "You nearly bled out before they got you to a hospital. The doctors called me. I tried calling your sergeant down at the police station to figure out what happened thinking 'oh no, my brother was involved in a police shooting!' He said you'd quit." David was into full rant mode. "What did you get involved in, John? How did you get shot?"

John felt himself shrink into the bed. No matter how old he was, his brother still had the ability of making him feel like the stupidest person in the world. It didn't help that they hated each other anyway. So why was he here?

"Mr. Sheppard, if you insist on acting this way, I'm going to have ask you to leave," the doctor snapped. John watched as his brother shrank back and stood moodily by the window. The woman turned back to John and smiled sympathetically. "The bullet was lodged in your collarbone," she explained. "You lost a lot of blood but we've stabilized you. You are a very lucky man, a few inches lower and it would have hit your heart."

John nodded. "That's…nice," he said awkwardly. He shifted and winced as the dull throb in his shoulder quickly turned into a sharp needling pain.

"I'll give you something for the pain," the doctor said knowingly. She shot something into his IV and his limbs suddenly felt as light as a feather, the pain floating away.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," she said. A beeping at her hip drew her attention to the small black beeper that was buried in her pocket. She took one quick glance at it. "Oh, please excuse me, I have another patient I need to see," she said before nearly bolting through the door. John swallowed past what felt like a wad of cotton in his throat. He looked sideways, spying a pitcher of water sitting neatly on the bedside table. John lifted a hand to reach grab it but his body reminded him that, no matter how many pain meds were in his system, he _still_ had a bullet hole in his shoulder. John hissed and let his arm drop to the bed. His eyes flicked up to his brother. Dave was still brooding and John silently cursed the doctor for leaving him alone with his brother. This was the man whom John never _ever_ wanted to see. And he was pretty sure the other Sheppard felt the same way.

There was an awkward silence while John's eyes flicked back and forth between the elder Sheppard and the pitcher of water. How badly did he need to drink…?

"Do you need anything?" Dave's voice cut through the air like a knife. John blinked.

"No," he said stubbornly.

"John—"

"Why are you here?" John rasped quietly.

"I was listed as your emergency contact," Dave explained. John blinked again. Of course. How silly of him to even think that Dave might be here because of his sickly brother.

"Sorry, I'll have them take that off. You can go now," John muttered. David sighed heavily and ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair.

"I asked around, John," Dave started. "I hear the bank foreclosed on your house. You car is totaled. You don't have a job or any real solid friends…" His voice trailed off. John stared glumly at the blanket covering his legs.

"What's your point?" he asked sullenly.

"This would be a good time to start over again," Dave said quietly. John clenched his teeth.

"You would like that, wouldn't you? To have me come crawling back to you, begging for your help."

"You're going need my help, whether you beg for it or not."

"I don't need you, Dave," John growled.

"What are you going to do when you get out of here? Hum? Where are you going to go?" Dave challenged. John didn't say anything. David finally sat in the chair next to John's bed. "Look, you and I both know that you've burned enough bridges. Why don't you start building them for a change?"

John refused to look at the man who claimed to be his brother. Utterly refused. "You're the one who shut me out," he snapped. David had been attempting to take over a big ol' fortune five hundred company when John's fiasco with the military happened. The man practically disowned him to save his reputation. Not that they were close or anything to begin with but a little support would have been nice.

"You walked away from this family when you joined the military to begin with," David countered. That shut him up. John felt his fists balling around wads of blanket. Dave closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to control the anger that _had_ to be building. "I'm sorry," Dave finally said. "I'm sorry for what's happened. I want to put this behind us. Let me be the big brother and help you out."

"Help me with what?" John could barely speak above a whisper. He felt a pressure building at the corners of his eyes but wouldn't let the tears flow.

"Help you start over," David said quietly. "Let's put everything behind us and start fresh."

"It's too late."

"Don't start that bull crap," Dave snapped. "I will help you. You can build a new life again."

John finally looked at his brother. He didn't know what to say. Pride kept him from doing what he really wanted to do. He wanted to break down and cry. He wanted to sob like a baby and greedily accept his brother's help. He wanted to not be a washout; a failure at life. But all he did was stare at his brother, trying very hard not to let a single tear escape. John was sure his face looked positively pathetic but he couldn't help it.

"I don't know what to do," he whispered. Dave's face softened. There was still a mask there, hardened by years of abuse that John had both given and taken in like kind. But the mask was less prominent. The wariness was a pulled back a fraction.

"I know. How about starting with healing first? I can't have my brother running around with holes in his body."

John just nodded. He suddenly didn't feel like the thirty something man that he was. He suddenly felt like he was twelve, sitting next to his father, discussing the ways of life. He felt unsure. Stripped. Empty.

"John? Do want some water?" Dave suddenly asked. John dubiously at the proffered cup. Slowly, hesitantly, he took it. The water helped to wash away the gunk that was lining his throat. He closed his eyes and savored the relief of it.

Alone. He wasn't alone. He was screwed up, mentally, physically, emotionally. But he wasn't alone.

A new start. A new beginning. The geneses of John re-lived. Could he do this? Probably not. Did he have a choice? Not really, no. Was he going to do it? Well, he was going to try…

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**Fin?**

**...No. **


	2. Author's Note

Authors Note:

Ok so, the next chapter in the Vegas series is going to be posted as a new story as it doesn't quite carry on from this last story line. There's too big of a timeline jump, too much which happens but isn't told, too much of a difference in plot. So, if you care to get an alert for the next chapter (which should be posted within the next week) and for the chapters after that, you'll need to sign up for an author alert.

Thanks for reading! I hope you stick with me in this Vegas 'Verse.

-Arem


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